If this is the end
by solveariddle
Summary: The hallways of The Lightman Group are empty. There was no farewell party, no tearful goodbye. The staff simply left and will come back tomorrow. Cal won't.


**A/N:** I should be working on my other story, Collateral Damage, but it's been a while since I've been able to put some coherent words together in writing. So I wrote this little piece to stretch my fingers.

**Disclaimer:** This might come as a surprise, but I own nothing regarding LTM.

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><p><em>Everything is going to be fine in the end. If it's not fine, it's not the end. - Oscar Wilde<em>

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><p><strong>It could have ended like that...<strong>

The hallways of The Lightman Group are empty. There was no farewell party, no tearful goodbye. The staff simply left and will come back tomorrow. Cal won't.

A few months ago, he decided to sell the company and only work hand-picked cases as a freelance in the future. There is no concept as yet where those cases are supposed to come from or how he will handle them, considering that he will have neither staff nor equipment anymore. The new owner keeps the staff on and acquired equipment as well as customer data. Therefore people are right to suspect that the scenario serves the purpose to conceal that he retires and has no idea as to what to do with his life. Cal knows people are talking behind his back. He just can't bring himself to care. Everyone he cared about left long ago.

Gillian was the first. They had no major fallout. It just happened. They had been quite close for a while after Claire's death. Then everyday life made Cal forget that staying close is something you have to work for. The truth is, he never expected her to leave. Her presence was a given just like being able to breathe. He only became aware how difficult breathing can be after she was gone. Of course, he tried to talk her into coming back. Cal should have known, though, that as long as it had taken Gillian to prepare for that decision as unwavering it was once she had made it. She had witnessed too many of his ego trips, and in the end, his affection for her – that he more often than not only seemed to display when it was convenient for him – wasn't enough to make her stay. Gillian had lost confidence that he would be able to change, no matter what he promised her.

He was angry – with himself, with her, at life in general – and drowned his sorrow in more drinks than he could count. It didn't help. The pain wouldn't go away. Not when he came to work in the morning and went past her empty office, not when he called her late at night and started another desperate attempt to talk her into coming back to no avail. The entire time, he was aware that he was a pathetic coward, that this was about much more than losing her as his business partner. You don't drink yourself into oblivion because of a business partner. Yet, it took him several months before he was ready to lay the cards on the table.

Cal told Gillian that he loved her on her doorstep, every word leaving a cloud of frozen breath in the nightly air. Just as he began to speak, a soft fall of snow set in – a romantic scenery that was as good as it gets. At least until a man appeared behind her. His question if everything was ok and the way he touched her left no doubt that Gillian had moved on more than just professionally. All the same, Cal could see the heartache written all over her face even though she tried very hard to hide it, telling the man that yes, everything was ok, and that he could go back inside. She didn't introduce them to each other. That's when Cal knew it was over. She didn't want him to be part of her life anymore.

"You love me, Gillian," he stated nevertheless because it was the truth and because she obviously wouldn't say it, but the words left a sour taste in his mouth like a once delicious but now decayed meal.

"Yes, I do," she said. "But it never mattered. So why should it matter now?"

Cal had a million reasons why it did, and yet, he didn't enumerate one of them. All his life, he had been looking for the truth, well aware that it rarely brings happiness along. They had denied the truth for the wrong reasons and had been happy. At least in the beginning and at least in a way. Now, that the truth was out, there was no happiness anymore. For him at any rate. Perhaps Gillian still had a shot at it. With someone else. If he let her.

He hesitated only briefly before he took a step forward and fleetingly kissed her on the cheek, remembering another moment in another universe when they had been standing on the same doorstep, their bodies doing a mesmerizing dance back and forth. At that time, he hadn't wanted to leave and she had wanted him to stay. Save that there would be no – _yes, of course – _from her in response to his – _can I sleep in your spare bed room tonight_ – this time.

It was the last time Cal saw Gillian, the last time he talked to her. She has stayed in touch with Emily and sends him a birthday card every year, heartwarming words in her neat handwriting. She still cares, but she never answers the phone when he calls to say thank you. Her voice in his head, reading the words to him, has to suffice.

Torres and Loker left not long after Gillian. Cal is aware of the weird love-hate-relationship he had with his two employees. They admired him as a scientist and resented him as a person, at least at times, no need to whitewash the facts. In the end, though, it didn't matter what they thought of him. Gillian had been the putty that had bound them. The moment she was gone, their connection started to crumble.

This it what it all comes down to. Gillian won't come back. And without Gillian Foster there is no Cal Lightman. At least no version of him that is willing to lead a company on his own. It solely was and is his name in the title, but The Lightman Group never has been the same without her. _His name on the door. His sweat that built the company._ There are words you can't take back, no matter how much you regret them. Maybe those words had no relevance in the big picture, but in hindsight they marked the moment things began to go downhill between them. They caused a crack in their mutual trust and affection he has never been able to repair. Sometimes love is not enough.

The neon sign with the company's name will be replaced. It was part of the negotiation to carry on Cal's work under his name. Cal refused. People might buy his book (he never wrote the second one), might study the science he invented, but he will be damned if he lets someone else use the name of his company, _their_ company. There will be no Lightman Group anymore. Today is the last day.

Gillian must have heard about his decision to sell the company. News like that go round. And if no one else told her, then Emily must have. Cal can't believe that even that significant change in his life isn't enough to make her call him.

His fingers hover over the light switch. Only when the silence becomes too loud, filled with too many painful memories and regrets, he switches off the light and walks out.

As the doors of the elevator close behind him, the phone in his office rings, but he doesn't hear it.

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><p><strong>...or like that...<strong>

It's a misty morning. Fog patches move quietly between the gravestones. No one comes here that early. That's why Cal chooses this time of day for his weekly visit. He wants to be alone with her.

He replaces the rose next to the gravestone with a fresh one. It's a special rose, sprinkled with spots of chocolate. Cal is convinced that it makes her smile. He can't stand the imagination that she is sad, just as he can't think of her in past tense. Then he starts to talk. Nothing spectacular. He tells her about his week, about what has happened after he was here the last time.

It's funny how you think day after day that things will change and in the end, literally the end, that came much too early and unexpected, nothing changed because there simply had been not enough time left anymore. On one hand, what they had was enough – them, working together and being close friends, always relying on each other. More than many people can hope for. She loved him. He loved her. They both knew it. Save that neither of them said it out loud. Ever.

They became very close after Claire's death and everyone thought they would be a couple soon, but it never happened. On some days, Cal is painfully aware that the happiness they experienced was only a small part of how it could have been. But the right moment never came, it never seemed worth the risk. They always thought they had time.

"I love you, Gill," Cal says as he always does when he comes here. The first times he did it, he heard her response in his head – _that's kind of ironic from where I'm standing – _and had to smile. He loves her ready wit.

Before he leaves, he kisses his fingertips and caresses the edge of the gravestone, convinced that somewhere, somehow, she feels his touch.

He will be back next week.

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><p><strong>...but instead...<strong>

"I can't do that," Gillian tensely says for what feels like the 1000th time.

It is a full house. No vacant seat anymore. People are even standing in the back. The organizer told her that they'd stopped letting people in for security reasons. Meaning that there are more people outside who would have liked to hear what she is going to say in a couple of minutes or rather read to them. She never would have expected such an overwhelming response. Gillian takes a deep breath to calm herself, her thoughts straying to the moment about 1 ½ years ago when it all started.

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><p>Cal irritates her on a good day. On a day like this, he drives her mad and beyond. Actually, beyond mad is a quite accurate description of how she is feeling right now. Their relationship has gone from strained to close, at least for a while after Claire's death, then back to strained, and that's where it has remained from then on. The threshold whether they are having a good day or not doesn't depend on their closeness but on the amount of arguments they are not having for once. There is still affection and mutual respect beneath, but sometimes Gillian wonders how much longer it will be enough to keep them together because on a day like this she gets so angry with him that she doesn't remember what it is that makes her stay despite everything.<p>

"We are broke, Cal," she repeats. "If you don't manage to write the first draft of your book tonight, we are broke."

Cal's agent contacted her since he has been avoiding her calls and e-mails. For months as it turned out. Gillian didn't know it. Tomorrow is the deadline of the deadline extension of the deadline extension of the... at some point during their conversation, Gillian lost track of how many times the agent had conceded a reprieve to Cal. However, it was clear that there won't be another; there is no room left for negotiation. If Cal's agent doesn't hold something that at least remotely resembles a draft of his book in her hands at 9 AM tomorrow, Cal has to refund the money he received in advance. Money that doesn't exist anymore because they needed it to keep the company running. Having to pay it back means losing the company. The credit lines of the company are already exceeded as well as their private ones.

This is fundamental; it will turn their lives upside down if they don't find a solution. It should be the one of all moments, Cal acts like it, but he doesn't even if she knows that he cares. Certainly, he does. It is his company, after all. Well, _theirs_, despite the title. Everything about him annoys her – the way he slouches on his chair as usual, the way he fakes indifference because that's what he does more often than not, perhaps to feel superior, perhaps to protect himself. Gillian doesn't know, and right now, it doesn't matter. All she wants to do is yell at him. _Take it seriously, damnit. _

He sees her anger and eventually gives in. "I will call her and talk to her," Cal says, referring to his agent.

"She won't answer your calls unless you send her a draft first." The woman was as clear as day when it came to that. Only when Cal flinches, Gillian notices the tone of her voice – frustrated, reprehensive, bordering on contempt. She doesn't apologize. He deserves it.

"I will see to it," Cal basically repeats what he just said, but it is an empty phrase. _How_ will he see to it? _What_ will he do? Here and now, Gillian can't imagine one scenario that will save them and it's his fault. He is composed, wary, watching her. It doesn't help her to calm down. In fact, it fuels her anger even more. If he cares so much about her as he doesn't become tired of assuring her whenever they have a fight, then why can't he behave responsibly? If only for once? She can't stand being in the same room with him.

"Sure," Gillian doesn't bother to bite back the snarky reply although she knows and sees that her demeanor hurts him. Then she turns around and walks out. Not only out of his office. She grabs her coat and bag and calls it a day. Cal and she are a lot of things – the two most essential ones business partners and friends – but right now all these terms wear a label tagging them as past.

As expected, Cal calls her as soon as he realizes that she is not at the office anymore. It's that push-and-pull-thing that is going on between them, always has been. She stops counting after the 10th time and expects him to come over and knock on her door, even in the middle of the night if need be. Actually, it would fit her mood to have a dramatic scene in the middle of the night right before everything that ties them together is about to fall apart. It could have a cathartic effect although she has no idea what they would be for each other once it would be over. Either way, it doesn't happen. No Cal. No dramatic scene. Just her and her thoughts. Gillian is too exhausted to shed tears, fighting insomnia until she finally manages to fall asleep.

On a regular day, Gillian comes to work at 8:30 AM at the latest. The next morning, though, she comes in later, doesn't even know whether she still has an office or not. Cal might as well already have declared their bankruptcy. Then again, it's her who handles their administrative matters, not Cal.

All the more, she is surprised when she enters her office and finds Cal sitting there, waiting for her, _smiling_. What possible reason could there be for him to smile?

"Don't ya wanna know?" he teases her when she doesn't react, her exhaustion and anger struggling against her instinctive reaction to fall for his charm. Anger and exhaustion win. For now.

"Do I?" For a brief moment, she is able to see beyond his facade of self-confidence and catches a glimpse of insecurity and wariness. Not in general but specifically directed at her. What is going on? "What did you do?"

Gillian approaches Cal as he steps back and raises his hands in defense. Their usual ritual, only reversed.

"Let me explain," he starts, but she won't let him.

On any other day, Gillian would have found it interesting, even thrilling – the sudden shift in their balance of power. Today, not so much. Today, she wants answers, needs a spark of hope that she might still have a financially stable future. Anything but another one of Cal's games.

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupts him before he is able to continue. "Unless you've actually written that book overnight."

"Well..." Shifting. Wiggling. Gesturing with his hands. _Wild_ gesturing, actually. Cal-talk without words and she is tired of decrypting him.

"That's no yes, Cal. And if you don't have a yes for me, then I don't want to have this talk right now because I need to contact my bank to figure out how to pay my rent next month, let alone that we have to tell our staff that they need to apply for new jobs."

"No need," he practically shouts the words into one of her breaks. "For the bank stuff and the new jobs stuff if..."

_Of course._ There's always an _if_ when Cal is involved.

"Do you even listen to me?" Gillian's voice has the dangerous calm right before she is about to snap. "I don't want to hear excuses or ifs. Is there a book so that you don't have to refund the advance payment – yes or no?"

"Yes," he says, leaving her speechless. _Yes?_ So he did write it overnight or already had the draft on his hard drive. "But..."

Of course. _Again_. First an _if_, now a _but_. "Fine," she interrupts him another time. "There is a book. We are not broke. Fine. Really. I don't need to know more. I don't want to."

She has accomplished her goal. Cal has stopped talking, just stands there, looking at her. Gillian feels her energy ebb away, the lack of sleep catching up with her. Anger and exhaustion make room for how she usually feels when he is around, whenever he doesn't anger her or she doesn't hold up that invisible shield between them. She is wax in his hands. Plain and simple. Their eyes meet and she knows he can see her resolve waver.

"Gill..."

In the end, it's not his words, it's his ability to talk her into something without talking at all. Damn him. Gillian gives in, "Okay... What's the _but?_"

He keeps his distance. Cautious. "May I?" Cal gestures toward her laptop and she nods. He knows her password as she knows his, just in case. Slight irritation floods through her as he logs in. So she was right after all. _What did he do? _

"I was looking for your opinion on the Gibson case," he explains, referring to one of their current cases, for whatever reason he felt the need to work on it after their argument the day before. Probably as a distraction. "And when I didn't find it on the server, I took a look at your hard drive." Gillian only saves the files on the server when she is satisfied with the result. It's her need for perfection. No draft on the server. Ever. Only the perfect final version whereas Cal couldn't care less. More than once she swore to herself as she clicked on file after file that he had saved on the server to find the right one.

Cal clicks around on her hard drive. Looking over his shoulder, Gillian realizes what happened the moment before he clicks on the file. _Oh no._ The file is labeled "Gibson_x". It is not the file, he was looking for. He would have needed the file labeled "Gibson" next to it. A simple mistake. But now he knows.

"Cal...," Gillian starts, but this time he won't let her.

"It's brilliant," he says, looking at her with pride and excitement like a little child who found a jar of sweets. "Why didn't you tell me that you were doing this?"

It started several months ago, some time after Claire's death. Gillian needed something to focus on, something new. Far-reaching experiences often have that effect. All of a sudden, she saw what they were doing from a different angle and began to write things down. It was a description of their work as well as of the way they were working together. Scientifically correct but also profound and funny when it came to their characters that provided more than enough material for the latter. Cal, Loker, Torres and herself – all of them were part of it. That's why there were two versions of every case – the official one and the "x" one, her version so to speak.

The information that Cal found the files yesterday slowly sinks in and connects with the fact that he is in such a good mood today in general but wary when it comes to her. There is only one conclusion.

"You didn't!" Cal must have sent her files to his agent, and considering his good mood, she must have accepted them as the draft of his new book.

His facial expression says he did. "She loves it," he adds, shrugging as if this was meant to happen and he merely a messenger of fate. The wild gesturing starts again, and this time, Gillian is incapable of stopping him, of doing or saying anything. She is completely dumbfounded.

"I told my agent that you wrote it, not me, and she offered to adjust the contract. So you'll get the rest of the money and the fame. I am only supposed to write a foreword because of, um, my name being the one connected to the science and all that. If that's OK for you."

The words alternately get quieter and louder as Gillian zooms in and out of what Cal is telling her. She has difficulties processing all of it, but at the bottom line it comes down to this...

"So I will write your book." It's a statement not a question. If this is not classical Lightman, then she doesn't know what is. Her bafflement gives way to a light-hearted feeling as if a bundle of balloons is about to lift her up in the air. Gillian snorts with laughter. "Well, that's what I call a _but_, indeed."

"So what do you say?" Cal asks. He is still wary, still not reassured by her reaction. "We got another deadline extension. I mean, _you_ got another deadline extension. Even if there is enough material to make a book out of it already if you ask me." He must have spent some time reading last night, maybe all night.

"What do you think I say?" No need to make it easy for him even if she is starting to get as excited as he is. If someone doesn't pinch her in the next couple of minutes so that she wakes up, that is, because this for sure feels like a dream albeit a very nice one.

"You know I can read almost everything, darling – words, faces, even voices since you taught me, but you... I can't read you; you know that." Talk about charming. Talk about being wax in his skilled hands.

"Then take a wild guess." Gillian pushes Cal away, small fingers against his chest, a movement improved over the years whenever he came to close. Right here, though, it is not meant as an effort to create distance between them, it is one of their rituals and meant to show him that they still are what they used to be – business partners and friends – still here together despite everything.

He takes a step forward, right into her personal space. "Thank you for cleaning up my mess, Gillian."

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><p>And that's how Gillian Foster wrote a book.<p>

Even if she already had done most of the hard part, namely creative process and writing, it wasn't easy. The painful stages of editing. The legal stuff. They had to make sure that neither of their clients or cases could be identified save for the few of their clients who agreed to be mentioned in the book. Torres, Loker and Cal also signed agreements. When Gillian held the first printed version of her book in her hands, the four of them met and read it together. It took all night, but it was worth the lack of sleep.

And now she's here. One step away from her first reading. The public response after PR had commenced their work was overwhelming. People love the combination of scientific approach and real life insight into their daily work. Let alone the interaction between the unique characters that work at The Lightman Group. Due to demand, there will be more than one edition. Gillian received another payment in advance in the meantime that allowed them to pay off their debts. Perhaps they will even be able to expand. The catastrophe that had threatened to destroy them had taken a turn for the better.

"You will be great," Cal hugs and kisses her, trying to dispel her doubts. "Just be yourself."

Easier said than done. But then the time has come and she has to step out, greeted by a warm applause. As Gillian opens the book to read the chosen passages, she catches a glimpse of the ring she is wearing. It's been three months. She has almost gotten used to it by now. It's a beautiful but unpretentious ring just as they had a beautiful but unpretentious ceremony. And yet, the ring sparkles in the limelight, reminding her where she is standing in life, not only professionally. She has a healthy self-consciousness, but in a way it represents the extra sparkle only Cal is able to bring out of her and that she somehow put in that book.

Gillian smiles at the audience and begins to read.

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><p><strong>The end<strong>


End file.
